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.12/11/2024
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𝐴𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠, 𝑛𝑒𝑚 𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜 𝑜𝑢 𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑟. 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑙, 𝑎𝑙𝑖 𝑛𝑢𝑚 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑢𝑚 𝑝𝑟𝑒́𝑑𝑖𝑜 𝑑𝑎 𝑅𝑢𝑎 𝟹𝟷 𝑑𝑒 𝐽𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜. 𝐴 𝑠𝑎𝑢́𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒 - 𝑎 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑐̧𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑜́𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑢 - 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑣𝑎-𝑎 𝑙𝑎́ 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑜𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑠 𝑒 𝑒𝑢 𝑖𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑜, 𝑎̀𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑧𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑢𝑚 𝑝𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑐̧𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑒 𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑜. 𝑂 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑎, 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑢𝑐𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑙𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑖𝑎 𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑎 𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑐̧𝑎 𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑎.
𝐸𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑢 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑎̀𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑙𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑗𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑒𝑚 𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑎𝑠, 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑚 𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑎, 𝑎 𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑜 𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑑𝑎, 𝑎𝑙𝑒́𝑚 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑧𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑎 𝑜𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑟𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟. 𝐴 𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑎 𝑙𝑎́ 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑎 𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑣𝑎-𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑎, 𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑎 𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑎𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜, 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑟, 𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑙𝘩𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑚 𝑒𝑚 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑟. 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑧𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑑𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑎̃𝑜.
𝐴 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒 𝑛𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑎 𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑎 𝑎𝑜 𝑗𝑜𝑔𝑜, 𝑛𝑒𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑧𝑖𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑎 𝑡𝑢𝑑𝑜: 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑣𝑎, 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑧𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑒 𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎 𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑜 𝑠𝑎́𝑏𝑎𝑑𝑜. 𝐴𝑐𝘩𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝘩𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑎 𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑒 𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑟. “𝑆𝑖𝑚, 𝑠𝑖𝑚, 𝑠𝑎̃𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑠, 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎́ 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑎 𝑢𝑚 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑜, 𝑢𝑚 𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑧 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑙𝘩𝑜, 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑗𝑎́ 𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑢” 𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑜 𝑒́𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑠, 𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑎 𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑒 𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜𝑠. 𝐴 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑣𝑎-𝑠𝑒 𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎 𝑒𝑚 𝐶𝑜𝑖𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑎, 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑧𝑖𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑎 𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑒.
𝐴̀𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑧𝑒𝑠, 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑜 𝑑𝑟. 𝑀𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑎 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑎𝑠, 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎 𝑖𝑎 𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑠, 𝑑𝑖𝑧𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑠, 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑠, 𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑎́𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑠. 𝑂 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑠, 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑖́𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑚 𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢́𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑜𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑠. 𝑂𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎̃𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑚 𝑜𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑚 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑥𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑎𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑎́𝑠. 𝐴𝑐𝘩𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑟 𝑎̀𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜́𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑓𝑜𝑖 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑧 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑣𝑖 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑜́𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎, 𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑎𝑜 𝐿𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑗𝑎𝑙.
𝐴 𝑚𝑒𝑖𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝟾𝟶 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑎𝑠, 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑎 𝑖𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑗𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝐴𝑛𝑡𝑜́𝑛𝑖𝑜, 𝑛𝑎 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐̧𝑎 𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑎 𝑉𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑐̧𝑎̃𝑜, 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒. 𝐴𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜́𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑚 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎́𝑟𝑖𝑜. 𝐴𝑙𝑖, 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑠, 𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑎-𝑠𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜, 𝑑𝑜 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑜, 𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑎̃𝑜 𝑒 𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑠, 𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖́𝑙𝑖𝑎, 𝑜𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑧𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑜𝑠 𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑟 𝑜𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑠, 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑏𝑖́𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑙 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑛𝑢𝑚 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑎 𝑑𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑖 𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑜.
𝐴𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑒 𝑑𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑙𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠, 𝑑𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑣𝑎̃𝑜 𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑢𝑖́𝑛𝑎 𝑎𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙𝘩𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜, 𝑒𝑚 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑎𝑚 𝑜𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜. 𝐸 𝑓𝑜𝑖 𝑙𝑎́ 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑜𝑢 𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑎 𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑣𝑎 𝑢𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑚 𝑙𝑖𝑙𝑎́𝑠 𝑎𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑜 𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑎 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝘩𝑜𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒, 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑚 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐̧𝑜 𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑒̂𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑠. 𝐴 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑐̧𝑎̃𝑜 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑠, 𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑚 𝑎 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑒́𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑚 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑜.
𝐸 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑠 𝑣𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑒 𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑒𝑖𝑟𝑜, 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎 𝑚𝑎̃𝑒, 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝘩𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑠 𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎 𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐̧𝑎̃𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑎̃𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑙𝘩𝑎𝑟 𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑛𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙, 𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑎 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎̂𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑒 𝑜 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑢𝑚𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑛𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑙𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠.
* Jornalista no "DIÁRIO DE NOTÍCIAS DA MADEIRA"
IN "DIÁRIO DE NOTÍCIAS"- 10/11/24.
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3877.UNIÃO
EUROPEIA
"LEITURAS"
MAS AS MULHERES CONTINUAM SUBMISSAS
As mulheres da UE leêm
mais livros do que os homens
FONTE: 
NR: Quem mais lê em princípio tem mais meios para maior autonomia mas a submissão ao macho é uma evidência, começa nas religiões.
putin HUYLO
putin é um canalha..
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